29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Roman

H olden walks in the front door, shaking his head sadly.

“Still nothing?” I ask.

“No, I’m sorry. Honestly, I’m not even sure that he’s reading them.”

“Thanks, Hold.” I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed, but this is a marathon, not a sprint, and I’ve got nothing but time.

In my last session with Alexis, I didn’t talk about Dad. Although, given the nightmare I had, I probably should have. I was too focused on figuring out how to make things right with Beck. Truthfully, I don’t even know if I can. Alexis said I need to take accountability and listen to him without jumping to my own defense. She’s not wrong, but I can’t do that if he doesn’t even give me a chance.

I’m counting down the days until I can go get my stitches out. Not because they’re bothering me, but because I can’t wait to see his face. I’m dying for the chance to stare into those blue eyes and take in everything I’ve missed.

I originally said I’d have Holden take my stitches out, but even I know that’s a terrible idea. The expression on Beck’s face told me all I needed to know. The heartbreak. The anger. No, I’ll be going back to let him do it.

I put my car in park as I stop in front of the familiar storefront of the bakery. Nothing about it has changed in ten years, and it fills me with a strange sense of nostalgia. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. The thought of going inside actually makes me feel a little sick, but I know I have to do it.

With a sigh, I open the door and step out, heading toward the building. The chime of the door takes me back. Back to a time when Beck walking through the door made my entire day. When the sight of his blue eyes and his gorgeous face filled me with joy and not terror.

I see Mia before she sees me. She hasn’t aged a day, and her hair is still as blue as the last day I saw her, tied in a big knot on the top of her head.

The second her eyes meet mine, recognition lights up her face. With a dramatic flourish, she leaps over the counter and runs directly to me, wrapping me up in a big bear hug that damn near knocks the air out of me. “Holy shit, you’re here!” I squeeze her back, tears prickling my eyes. “I was so worried about you. God, I’m glad you’re here. Are you okay?”

She pulls back, studying me. I nod. “Yeah, I’m good.”

She raises a hand to my face, her brow furrowing as she touches the scar on my eyebrow. “What the fuck happened?”

“Dad happened,” I say, and her face twists into a grimace.

“God, I’m so sorry we didn’t protect you, Roman. We knew. We… we could tell something wasn’t right, and we kept waiting for you to open up. When you finally did, we were so happy. And then you closed right back down, and you were just… gone.”

She lunges forward again, wrapping me in her arms. “We were so worried. God, we were beside ourselves.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you guys.” If I’m being honest, I wasn’t expecting this reaction. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I figured there’d be a little more anger—maybe some irritation. Something .

The door chimes behind me, and like a Pavlovian response, my heart starts pounding. I turn quickly, pulling myself from Mia, expecting to be disappointed. But instead, I’m falling heart-first into the endless blue of Beck’s eyes.

“You’re here,” I breathe.

He snorts, but it’s humorless. “Yes, Roman. I’m here. Did you think I’d stop supporting Mia and Emily just because you fucked off and left town?”

I didn’t really fuck off and leave town—not in the way he’s implying—but it’s easy to see that I hurt him. And if I have any chance of winning him back, I can’t be a dick, even if he’s being shitty to me. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you, that’s all,” I say quietly.

He rolls his eyes, pure disdain etched on his face, and I feel myself shrinking away. “Yeah, well, maybe you should get used to that,” he says. “You know, like I had to.”

Oh. That hurt. But okay, I deserve it. “Or, we can both get used to seeing each other again.”

He hesitates, something that looks like longing flashing in his eyes before he shutters his gaze. “No thanks.” He walks past me and I turn to watch him. Mia is already behind the counter. I didn’t even realize she walked away. I stand there for a beat or two, then look back at Mia. She’s already watching me, her head tilted slightly, as if to ask if I’m okay. I nod, but I’m really not. So, I turn and walk out of the bakery.

I’m not going to give up, though. I can’t.

By the time I get home, I can’t fight the tears anymore. I walk straight to Holden’s room and collapse onto his bed, sobbing into his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arm around my waist and lets me cry it out. I didn’t expect this to be easy, but I also didn’t expect Beck to look at me with such contempt, either. Like he can’t stand to breathe the same air as me. It’s probably nothing I don’t deserve, but it still hurts—especially since Beck has never had a mean thing to say to me. In fact, he was always building me up, making me feel like a good person.

When my tears finally slow from painful sobs to a trickle, I lift my head from Holden’s shoulder and sniffle. “Sorry for… well…” I mumble, waving my hand around vaguely, as if encompassing all the things I’m sorry for.

Holden smiles sadly, shaking his head. “No need to apologize. What do you always tell me about that?”

I shrug, knowing he’s right—that a few days ago, I was bragging to myself about how emotionally intelligent I am, and how I know I don’t need to apologize for feeling emotions. What a fucking joke. Being here is draining my mental health. I don’t think I need an extra therapy session this week, but I definitely can’t afford to skip the one I have. My head is a fucking mess.

“So what happened?” Holden asks quietly.

I sniffle again, trying to keep myself from falling apart. “I went to the bakery, and in walks Beck. I was shocked to see him and he… he—” My voice cuts off, more tears spilling over. “Fuck me, Hold. This is so hard.”

Holden doesn’t say anything at first, simply pulling me back into his strong embrace. “Do you want to give up?”

I shake my head. “No, absolutely not. But I think the notes might be doing more harm than good. I think I’m going to take a break from that and try something new.”

Hold nods, his arms tightening around me. “I’m here for you. Always,” he murmurs. I already know that, but it’s still nice to hear. I’ll never take his friendship for granted.

It’s been two weeks since I got my stitches, and a week since I last saw Beck. I’ve replayed the encounter at the bakery over and over again in my head. Not because of the way we interacted, but because I miss his beautiful face so fucking much.

I’m going to get my stitches out today, but I’m waiting on a text from Holden to make sure that Beck is working. I’m not leaving anything to chance. I gave him a break from the notes, but today, I’m laying all my cards out on the table. My phone buzzes, and I glance down to a message from Holden.

Hold

He’s here. Grumpy as hell too. Come dick this man down or something. Fuck’s sake.

I chuckle, but nerves shoot through my stomach. Our last meeting did not go super well, and I’m hoping this one does. I stand and head outside to my car, knowing that I can’t put this off any longer, or the anxiety might actually eat me alive.

On the way to the hospital, I stop at a cute little flower shop that definitely wasn’t here when I left town. Is it cliché to bring flowers? Probably. But I don’t care. I’m browsing the displays when a frail, older man steps up to the counter and asks if there’s anything he can do for me.

“Do you have any flowers that say, ‘I’m sorry I left you ten years ago, but I want to win you back and spend the rest of my life with you?’” I ask, only slightly joking.

He raises a gray brow and smiles. “Well, White Tulips could be a good option, as they symbolize forgiveness and new beginnings.”

I nod. That sounds good.

“Blue Hyacinths are also a solid choice, representing a desire to make amends and restore harmony. Peonies are also known for their representation of regret and the desire for a fresh start.”

Yes, yes, yes to all of those things. “Perfect. Can you make me a bouquet with all three?” I ask.

His eyebrows shoot up, but he smiles, shaking his head. “Give me a few minutes.” He disappears behind a set of double doors.

As I wait, I glance at the pre-made arrangements. This guy is clearly talented. These are some of the prettiest arrangements I’ve ever seen. Before long, he’s back with a beautiful bouquet. “I could have done more with more time,” he says apologetically. “But you seem like you’re in a hurry.”

Well, he’s not wrong. I hand him my credit card. “These are beautiful. Thank you.”

I have one more stop to make before I go to the hospital—the gas station across the street from it. They used to sell Beck’s favorite beef jerky here. We’d grab a bag every time we came to see his mom at work. The stars are all aligning for me because there’s only one bag left on the shelf. I grab it. Do I need this stuff? No, but I wouldn’t feel right showing up empty-handed.

Minutes later, I’m sitting in the parking lot of the hospital, my stomach fluttering. I need this to go well. I’m not sure my heart can handle another interaction like the one in the bakery.

I force a deep breath into my lungs and climb from the car, but I hesitate at the double doors of the entrance. Part of me thinks maybe I should go home and let Hold take my stitches out later. It doesn’t feel right to blindside Beck like this, but I don’t know what else to do. With another calming breath, I push through the doors and head over to get checked in.

Once I’m in the exam room, the nurse who numbed my hand last time comes in. Michelle, I think her name was.

“Let’s get those stitches out,” she says, sitting down across from me.

Panic flares in my chest, and I pull my hand back. Her eyes widen. “I, um, I was hoping that Beck could take them out.”

Her lips quirk up in a knowing smile, and she nods. “I’ll go get him. Do you want me to tell him it’s you?”

“No, probably not a great idea. He may not come at all if he knows it’s me.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that. You sit tight, and I’ll go grab him.”

As soon as she leaves, I grab the flowers and beef jerky, holding them awkwardly in front of me. I don’t know how long Beck will take, but I’m not about to be caught unprepared.

I don’t have to wait long. Within a couple of minutes, there’s a brisk knock and then a tired-looking Beck comes in. He’s smiling—until he sees me, that is. The smile drops off his face, leaving only exhaustion behind, and my stomach sinks.

I stand, walking cautiously toward him. His eyes drop to the flowers and beef jerky in my hands, his lips forming an adorable little O.

I hold them out in front of me. “These are for you.” He takes them slowly, like he’s too stunned to process what’s actually happening. He stares down at them for a long moment before finally meeting my gaze.

“You got me beef jerky?” he asks, clearly shocked.

“Yeah, I didn’t figure chocolates would go over well,” I mumble, my face heating up under his intense stare.

His eyes dart around my face, like he’s taking it in. “You really got me beef jerky,” he says again, his voice trembling.

I nod. “And flowers. They’re supposed to be symbolic of stuff—apologies, regrets, new beginnings.” His eyes drop to the bouquet.

“New beginnings,” he murmurs, still staring at the flowers. “So what, you think you can just get a new beginning, huh?”

“I’m hoping so. Or at least the chance to try for one.”

Suddenly, he blurts out, “Why did you stop sending the notes?”

My jaw drops open in surprise, but then a smile spreads across my face. “So you were reading them?” He nods, but doesn’t raise his eyes. “I wanted to give you space. I didn’t want to come on too strong too quickly. Plus, you never wrote back.”

Finally, fucking finally, he pins me with those baby blues. “I wasn’t sure what to say. First, I didn’t want them. I threw the first one away. Half an hour later, I was digging it out of the trash.” He whispers that part, shame tinting his voice. My heart clenches painfully, but before I can say anything, he’s pushing on. “I was disappointed when you stopped sending them. Even if I can’t stand the delivery service.”

I cock my head to the side. “You don’t like Holden?” Oof, that’s no good. Holden’s my best friend, and I’m not sure what I’ll do if Beck doesn’t like him.

He scoffs. “No, I don’t like him. He’s your… your… well, he’s just yours.” His words are full of irritation, but underneath that is sadness. Crushing sadness.

“He’s my best friend. An integral part of Operation Win Back Beck Hart.”

He blinks, his expression unreadable. I decide to steer us back to a safer topic. “Would you mind taking these stitches out for me?” I try to smile, but it feels like it’s more of a grimace.

Beck sighs. “Why didn’t you just have Holden do it?” So much for a safer topic.

“Because then I wouldn’t have been able to see your gorgeous face,” I say, deciding to go for total honesty.

He gasps, taking a big step back away from me. He studies me for a bit, ultimately turning to wash his hands and glove up. “Let’s get these stitches out.”

My body buzzes with anticipation of his touch, and I can feel it all over when his fingers gently grasp my wrist, turning my hand back and forth to check the cut. It healed beautifully. Holden made sure of that, not that I’m about to tell Beck that. “Healed nicely,” he mutters, like he can read my thoughts.

I nod, but stay silent. His proximity is overwhelming, and I’m trying not to blurt out how much I want him back. Especially not while he has a sharp object so close to my skin. The slight tug of the stitches being removed barely registers. I’m too focused on his face—the little furrow in his brow as he concentrates, the strand of hair that’s fallen over his forehead. I startle when he sits back and says, “All done.”

I glance down at my hand for a brief second, gathering my courage. “Hey, Beck,” I say as he reaches the door. “Can we talk? Like, really talk? I’d like a do-over. I want to try to explain. I want the chance to get you back. Please.”

My heart pounds as I wait for his response. He’s standing in front of the door, flowers and jerky in one hand, his other on the door handle. I watch as his shoulders rise with tension. My stomach drops as I prepare for him to tell me to fuck off.

Almost to himself, he nods. “Beck, is that a yes?” I ask, almost too quietly for him to hear. Hell, I could barely hear it. To be fair, though, I can barely hear anything over the sound of my own pounding heart.

He turns slowly, his eyes meeting mine—a kaleidoscope of emotion in them. He nods again, sharper this time. “Yeah, I uh… yes.”

I want to take a victory lap around the hospital, but I try to stay calm. “Tonight? Can I come over tonight?”

“I’ll go find someone to cover the rest of my shift. You can follow me home.”

“Right now?” I ask, shocked.

“Yeah, if that’s alright. Either way, the rest of my shift is gonna be fucked. Now’s as good a time as any to get this over with.”

That doesn’t sound promising, but I’ll take whatever I can get.

“Wait here,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

Less than ten minutes later, I’m following Beck to his house, my hands shaking so hard I can barely hold the steering wheel. The radio is shut off, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I need this to go well. I’m not sure what I’m going to do if it doesn’t. This could be my last chance.

He pulls into the driveway of an adorable little ranch home surrounded by trees. I park behind him and rush to catch up as he walks to the door. He doesn’t even stop or say anything—just opens the door and walks in, ignoring me.

Once we’re in the house, I stop and turn to him, waiting to see what he wants to do. All the thoughts and plans I had laid out in my head vanish, leaving me speechless. Fuck, Roman, get it together.

He has a contemplative look on his face, and I’m about to ask if he has any questions when he strides across the room toward me. My eyes widen in shock as his lips crash down onto mine in a rough, biting kiss.